The City
by Christian Nagle
Summary: An intruder, Mother Superior, the Head Monk at the Friary in Sodom and an arrogant yet mysterious man all collide on a rainy day at the end of the world as they know it, but who will prevail in the struggle?


The intruder slipped between the frame and the door a few seconds before the door lock clicked. **I**nside the garret, the intruder, soaked to the bone and beyond shivering, spotted **a** vacancy beneath the **m**ess of sheets and pillows – a scene more familiar in the nearby sister cities of **S**odom and Gomorrah – **a**nd darting to **t**he floor, d**a**shing his foot upon the stone, the intruder slid be**n**eath the frame of the bed and waited It was patience he mastered; it was a strong trait in his being. **I**t was suspense that he counted on. It was his hope that the man he had tracked from the end of the hallway (the man **w**ho had locked the door **a**nd disregarded it a**s** he resolutely turned the **n**earby corner, sojourning down the palatial stairs t**o** an inclement day) would hear **t**he door click shut and let it pass, this arbitrary thing, out of hi**s** mind. It was morning, but t**h**e rain had n**o**t **w**aited to fall. It had bee**n** falling, indeed, for the majority of the past **f**orty days. In the friary **a**t Sodom, brothers clustered around anc**i**ent texts and lifeless manusc**r**ipts upo**n** froz**e**n **s**creen**s**. They speculated in hushed voices **w**hat was to come; t**h**ey consulted the Four (and p**e**rhaps one more depending o**n** their upbringing) as overseen by the Church. In the nunnery at **G**omorrah, sisters remained secluded in their pris**o**n-like rooms. Their actions were confine**d** to lying in bed, si**t**ting upon t**h**eir beds, pacing the floo**r** while mutt**e**ring prayers in Ne**w** Latin. Most of them were crying (mostly for no other reason than the sister beside the**m** did the same). It was at this hour that th**e** intruder (or perhaps he would be their savior?) slipped int**o** his hiding place beneath the sinner's bed, and Mother S**u**perior and the Head Monk of**t**he Order of Sodom, saddled their horses and set out for the City

The road to the City is not paved in gold. **I**t is a city whose foundation is erected in written promises that were never kept. In the City, t**h**e people **a**re believers, but they do not belie**v**e in the words of the Four. Ask that young woman ov**e**r there, the one in the red dress and long flowing dark hair – whose s**m**ile stays on no m**a**tter whom she is with – an**d** wearing the red cloak and hood; sh**e** will tell you **t**his: The Four were wrong. T**h**ey didn't listen to th**e** one they left out. She was the wisest because she knew him the best. That is what she **t**old me, in any case, and that is what she'll tell you. She calls he**r**self Magga. The C**i**ty peo**p**le think she is a Witch, but they won't burn**h**er. They ar**e** passive aggressive – they pass up agg**r**essive resolutions to th**e**ir problems – and it angers them. They are the multiple emb**o**diment of the Gollum: they love a**n**d hate themselves. Along th**e** muddy road to the City, there is a fork. It seems out of place because the road is situated on a f**l**at stretch of l**a**nd that is**s**parse and reveals every**t**hing. Still, the road forks into two separate alleys leading to **t**he same place. The City **i**s surrounded by a gilded gate, painted white and **m**ade to shin**e** in the forgotten sunlight, locked by the Gatekeeper (Peter) who will let you in, **b**ut only if your purpos**e** is **c**orrect. So, **a**s Mother S**u**perior, **s**ide by sid**e** with the Head Monk of Sodom, travel along the road, the intruder awaits his victim. **I**s there any hope, someone asks in this moment of truth, for humans? Does He still look favorab**l**y upon us, His children wh**o**m He lo**v**es? It is not th**e** man, who being tracked no more has reached the bottom of the stairs and opens the door to the da**y**. He thinks **o**nly abo**u**t money and how he will make it; whose pennies he'll **s**natch away from **t**hem. They don't need th**i**s money anyway! They are he**l**pless; they are poor; they cannot rightfu**l**ly want and strive to make anything of their pennies Their station is fixed and they shall never rise. That is what he thinks.


End file.
